Forgiveness
by Ainaof
Summary: How might Sam let Dean know he's out of the Pit, without getting in the way of Dean's apple pie life?  Spoilers for seasons 1-5.  Rated T, just in case.
1. For Dean

_This story starts with Sam under the street light at the end of season five and moves forward a few days from there. Just one person's idea of how Sam might try to ease Dean's pain without ruining his apple pie life. Hope you enjoy it! _

**Disclaimer: Only the idea is mine. Supernatural and the characters therein belong to the writers, directors, producers, and actors that bring it to life. The song quoted in the story is by the group Within Temptation, and is titled Forgiven.**_  
_

Sam stood beneath the street light, watching Dean have dinner with Lisa and Ben. He couldn't believe he was here, out of the Pit, back in the world again. Dean smiled inside the house, but there was a touch of sadness to it. _That's my fault. _Sam thought. _Because of what I did. I'm so sorry, Dean. For everything. Bobby, Cas, you._ Every part of Sam longed to walk up to the house and knock softly on the door. He knew that Dean would come to the door, and after the prerequisite tests to ensure Sam wasn't a demon or some other creature, Dean would envelop him in a brotherly hug. There, in the safety of his brother's arms, everything would be okay, at least for a few moments. Dean would protect him, keep him safe, maybe even forgive him. More than anything, Sam wanted his big brother at that moment. He wanted Dean. But he knew it might not be safe, and he knew that it would ruin Dean's shot at getting out.

He sighed, hunched his shoulders, and toed at the dirt beneath his feet. Knocking on that door would drag Dean back into the hunting life. Maybe not the same as before, but still... Sam just couldn't do that. This was Dean's chance. This was what Dean wanted. Sam still remembered the time they both took the dream root to save Bobby and the look on Dean's face when he had seen Lisa on that picnic blanket. As much as Sam had ever wanted normal, had wanted Stanford and all that went with it, Dean wanted "normal" too. His normal was Lisa and Ben. After everything he'd done, everything he'd cost Dean and all the pain he'd caused, Sam couldn't bring himself to go to that door and pull Dean away.

But he knew Dean would suffer believing he was still in the Pit, so he tried to think of a way to make it right. Reluctantly, he walked away from the house. He walked away from his brother, ignoring the voice screaming in his head to turn around and go back, pretending the tears that fell were from the wind in his eyes.

It only took a day to come up with a way to let Dean know he was safe. It took three days of arguing with himself to do it. He listened to the song over and over, trying to decide if it was the right one. Dean probably wouldn't like the music, he might turn the tape off as soon as he heard it. Sam thought of a solution to that problem. Then he wrote down what he wanted to say, but ripped the paper to shreds when he read it out loud. Tried again with the same results. In the end, he just hit record and talked, trying to say what he thought was most important. Before he lost his nerve, he climbed into the crappy car he bought for a few hundred dollars (money won at the pool table) and drove to where Dean was, with the cassette tape practically burning a hole in his pocket.

It was late or early, depending on your viewpoint, closing in on three am. Sam knew that if Dean were sleeping, this would be the best time. In the past, Dean slept the deepest around 3am. Sam knew, because that's when the snoring would wake him up momentarily, and he'd look over at his brother to gauge if it was a good night's rest or not. Too often, the last year, it hadn't been. Dean had been sleeping simply because of exhaustion. Sam blamed himself for that. Hopefully, Dean was sleeping better now.

Sam crept up to the Impala, and using the keys he still had in his pocket, silently opened the door. He slid into the passenger seat with an overwhelming sense of familiarity. All he wanted to do was lean his head back and sleep. He closed his eyes briefly against the wave of grief inside. _I can do this. I have to do this. For Dean_. Hands shaking a bit, he pressed the eject button on the car's tape player. Motorhead popped out, and Sam dropped the cassette in his lap. Then he opened the case of the tape he had made, and pushed it into the player. He put the Motorhead tape away in it's holder. His hands shook again as he pulled a small, tissue wrapped object from his pocket and placed it in the cassette holder of the tape he'd made. The holder went into the box with the rest of Dean's tapes. Sam took a deep breath trying to memorize the smell of the car and of Dean. Then he eased out of the seat, locked the door and gently shut it, trying to avoid the telltale creak of the old metal. He considered leaving his set of keys under the seat, but decided in the end it was better he didn't. _What if someone stole the Impala using the set of keys I left behind? Dean would never forgive me._ At least that was the thought he kept running through his head as he walked back to his own car, crying again, clutching the keys to the Impala in his fist, running his thumb back and forth over them like they were a worry stone.

* * *

Dean drove to work the next morning without turning on the radio. After work, he called Lisa to see if she wanted him to pick up something for dinner.

"Hey Dean, how was work today?"

"Same old, same old. Carburetors and fuel lines."

Lisa laughed. "So what's up?"

"I was just calling to see if you wanted me to pick up pizza or something for dinner so you didn't have to cook." Dean leaned against the fender of the Impala, looking up at the sky.

"That's nice, but tonight Ben and I have to go finish up the back to school shopping, remember? And get his hair cut. We were going to grab a bite to eat while we were out. You're still welcome to join us. Ben would love having someone to complain about shopping to. Or you could just meet us for dinner."

"I thought you were planning that for tomorrow night. My mistake. Listen, I think I'll skip the shopping if it's okay with you. I'll go for a drive instead and see you and Ben at the house later, okay?"

"Sure, no problem. Are you okay?" Dean heard the concern in the question Lisa asked.

He sighed and closed his eyes against the pain. "Yeah. I just... I dreamt about him last night. Driving with him. When I got in the car this morning, I swore I could smell his cologne there. Threw me, you know? It's just been a hard day. I... miss him. I want him back." He tried not to let the emotion into his voice, but he choked on the last words.

Lisa said, "I know, babe, I know. I wish there was something I could do to help you. Why don't you just come home? We can all do something together tonight. Ben's school shopping can wait, he'll be thrilled. Come home, Dean."

Dean drew in a deep breath and ruthlessly shut down the voice in his head that answered, Y_ou aren't my home. My brother is my home and he's gone now. He's in constant pain and he's suffering because I couldn't save him. You can never be my home. You're just the wonderful woman who's helping me hold the pieces together as best I can. I'll never have a home again._ He thought all this, but said only, "No, you and Ben go ahead with your plans. I think a drive will help me clear my head a little. I'll see you later tonight, okay? Thanks, Lisa. Tell Ben I said not to hassle you too much about the clothes you pick."

She laughed again at that, but Dean could hear the sadness for him there. "We'll see you tonight, Dean. Drive safe. Bye." She hung up without waiting for his answer and he knew that she was wondering if tonight would be the night that he didn't return. Would tonight be the night he finally broke and fled, or worse? For a moment he thought of calling her back to reassure her, but couldn't think of anything he might say that would be reassuring. So instead he got into the car, and drove away, listening only to the rumble of the engine.

After an hour or so of solitude, Dean was driving down a quiet back road, too fast, but he didn't care. As always when he was alone, his thoughts drifted to Sam. He ran through all the events of the last year, analyzing choices, regretting actions, wishing he could take back some things he'd said and say something else in its place.

_ I should have gone with him. I should have jumped in that hole and followed him down. At least then_...

He felt the tears fill his eyes, and he hit the steering wheel, hard. Then again, and again. Quickly he pulled over to the side of the road and threw the car into park. He opened the door and barely made it to the grass before the scream building inside him tore loose and knocked him over. At first it was wordless, just a visceral, choking rage that he shouted to the skies between broken sobs. But when that didn't help, he stood, and glaring at the sky, screamed, "WHY?" Not sure if he was waiting for an answer, or to be struck down, he stayed still, listening. When nothing happened, he screamed again, "Why? Why him? Why my Sammy?" His voice cracked from the force of the screams, and his throat felt raw. He turned away from the empty sky and walked over to the car. His voice was low when he whispered, "I need him back." Dean got behind the wheel of the car, closed the door, and started driving again, knowing there was nowhere he could drive to that would change the fact Sam was gone.

Shortly after, Dean knew he needed to numb his brain, at least for a while, before he went back to Lisa and Ben. If he showed up like this, she'd think it was that first night all over again. The worst night, except for the ones that followed after. Because the pain of letting Sam go never got better. It just got harder. So, he needed a distraction. Deciding some loud, rage filled music was just the ticket, he reached over to the radio dial, and flipped on the cassette deck, expecting Motorhead to blare out of the speakers. Instead, gentle piano music filled the car.

"What the hell?" Dean said out loud. _Lisa_, he thought. _It must have been Lisa. Chick music_. Just as he reached for the eject button on the cassette player, the singer started. A woman's voice, sounding pretty, simple, and filled with pain.

_ Couldn't save you from the start  
Love you so it hurts my soul_  
_ Can you forgive me for trying again  
Your silence makes me hold my breath_

His hand slipped away from the dash as he focused on the words she was singing. Sam. It was like she was singing about him and Sam. How he couldn't save Sam.

_ Ooh, for so long I've tried to shield you from the world  
Ooh, you couldn't face the freedom on your own  
Here I am left in silence_

That was always his job. To protect Sam. Shield him from all the big bads in the world. But in the end, he'd failed. He left Sam alone when he died, thinking that Sam would be safe. Instead of him going to hell though, everything else had gone to hell. Sam had been tricked by Ruby, thinking he was helping people, hunting Lilith, when really he'd been helping Ruby set Lucifer free. And Dean had raged at him, blamed him, and forgiven him. But had he let Sam know? Did Sam know that Dean had forgiven him? Even before Stull?

_ You gave up the fight  
You left me behind  
All that's done's forgiven  
You'll always be mine  
I know deep inside  
All that's done's forgiven_

He thought back to all the times he'd told Sam he was done. That he was too tired to keep going. That he wished it would just be over. He thought of the things he said to Sam that he wished now he could take back. _Did Sam forgive me? I wish I knew for sure. It wasn't enough to just be there with him. To not let him die alone. I should have done more_. Dean swiped the tears away from his face again as the singer continued.

_ I watched the clouds drifting away  
Still the sun can't warm my face  
I know it was destined to go wrong  
You were looking for the great escape  
To chase your demons away_

_ I've been so lost since you've gone  
Why not me before you  
Why did fate deceive me  
Everything turned out so wrong  
Why did you leave me in silence_

Dean listened to the last verses, wondering again why Lisa put this tape in his car. He felt strange listening, since it wasn't really his kind of music. But her voice. What she was saying, the repetition of "All that's done's forgiven" over and over soothed a place in him he had thought impossible to reach. It didn't make Sam dying acceptable, but it eased a tightness inside him. It felt almost like he could breath again. The song ended with a single chord, and silence filled the car. Dean reached again for the eject button, this time to stop before the next song started. He was reluctant to let go of the feeling created by listening to the song. Before he pressed it though, he heard Sam's voice through the speakers.

_ Hey Dean. I hope you liked the song, if you listened to it and didn't just fast forward like the directions on the tape said_.

At that, Dean popped the tape out and looked at it. There, in Sam's scrawl, was a message to him.

_ Dean – fast forward past the song. For me. Sam_. He flipped the tape over and on the back was written, _I'm so sorry_.

Shaking now, he put the tape back in the player, rewound it a second, and listened to Sam's voice again.

_Hey Dean. I hope you liked the song, if you listened to it and didn't just fast forward like the directions on the tape said_. _I'm not sure where to start, Dean, or what I should say to you. I know you hate chick flick moments, but I need to tell you some stuff. First, I'm so sorry. I know I need to say that. For everything that I did. I messed up, over and over, and I disappointed you. I disappointed everyone, especially myself. I hate that what I did hurt you so much_.

Sam sighed on the tape, and Dean could picture him running his hand through his hair and scrunching up his face. Sam continued,_ I put this tape in your car on the morning of August 27__th__. I'm not sure when you'll listen to it, so I wanted to say that. I'm out of the Pit, Dean. I don't know how. But I am. I'm free. It's just me in here. Well, me and a boatload of guilt. Anyway, I was in the Pit, and then I wasn't. I was across the street from Lisa's house, standing under a streetlamp, watching you have dinner. That was three nights ago. I wanted to go knock on the door so much, Dean. To look you in the eye and tell you how sorry I am for all of this mess I got us into. Bobby and Cas are gone and it's my fault. Every night I wake up from the nightmare of watching Lucifer beat you and not being able to stop him. I deserved the Pit for everything I put us through. I don't know who decided I didn't, so I don't know how I got out. I know it wasn't you. I knew that you wouldn't break your promise, because that just isn't you. That isn't my big brother Dean. But I wanted you to know that I'm not down there any more. I'm here, so you can stop worrying. And feeling guilty. _

Sam sighed again and Dean's breath caught in his throat. _Now for the hard part. _Sam huffed on the tape, and Dean could hear the apology in Sam's voice as he started speaking once more._ You aren't going to understand this, and you're probably going to get mad, but it needs to be this way. I can't see you, Dean. Before you start yelling at the tape, listen to me. I'm pretty sure there are still some things after me. Seeing you will put you in danger. And Lisa and Ben too. I won't do that again. I won't put you and your family in danger, Dean. I can't hurt you anymore. I know this will hurt too, and I'm sorry for that, but it's better, I think, for now. _

_ The other reason is just as important, but might be tougher for you to understand. I can't forgive myself, Dean. I know, in the end, I did the right thing. I let him out, I locked him back up again. But I can't forgive myself for letting him out in the first place. I'm pretty sure you forgive me, and you'd take me back in a heartbeat. But I don't want to pull you back into this. Especially not now, when you've got something special happening. And even though you never did anything wrong, I'm going to say it. I forgive you, Dean. You never did anything that needed my forgiveness, but in case you want it, here it is. I forgive you. I'm so sorry about all my screw-ups. Later, maybe, if it's safe, and I can forgive myself, I'll come see you. I miss you so much big brother. If you need me, just leave me a message at my old email. I'll answer it. And Dean? I love you. Take care of yourself and live a good life. You've earned it. Stay safe. Oh – and check the box for this cassette. I left something there for you. I hope you want it back. _

The tape hissed as Sam's voice cut off. Dean pulled over to the side of the road again, parked the car, and grabbed for the box of cassettes in the passenger side wheel well. There, at the top, was a box labeled simply, _for Dean_, in Sam's handwriting. Dean opened the plastic case slowly, and lifted the tissue wrapped object out. His heartbeat pulsed faster with the hope of what it was. He clutched it in his hand for a moment, not believing this was all real. He cradled the tissue in his left hand, and unwrapped it with his right. There, nestled in his palm, was his amulet. The one Sam had given him for Christmas that Dean had thrown away years later when he'd lost his hope. When he believed that Sam didn't love him, didn't think of him as family. Sam must have pulled it out of the trash that day, and kept it with him. His hand clenched around it reflexively as he sobbed, "Sam." This time though, the pain eased. Sam was alive. Dean believed that this tape was from his brother. For the first time in months, he felt hope. Yes, Sam was being stubborn and self-sacrificing. He was being a Winchester. But he was alive, which meant Dean could find him. He slid the necklace on, and held the amulet in his left hand as he pulled the car back onto the road again.

Squeezing tightly he said, "I'm going to find you and bring you home, Sam. I'm bringing you home."

Dean let go of the amulet long enough to get his phone out and call Bobby.

**_The song used in the story is titled Forgiven by the group Within Temptation. _**


	2. A letter to Sam

_Thank you to everyone for the reviews of my previous work. Originally I intended for it to be a complete story on its own, but so many of you asked that I continue, I decided I could work on a second chapter (and it looks like probably a third). This is Dean's response to the tape Sam leaves in the Impala. _

**Disclaimer: Only the idea is mine. Supernatural and the characters therein belong to the writers, directors, producers, and actors that bring it to life. **

**Rated T for a bit of mild swearing.**

"Hello?" Bobby's gruff voice sounded over the phone.

"Hey, Bobby, it's Dean." Dean winced as he realized just how long it had been since he had spoken to the older hunter.

"Dean? Damn, son, it's good to hear your voice. It's been a year. Is everything okay? What have you been doing with yourself?"

"Sam left me a tape, Bobby. He's out. He got out somehow and he left me a tape in the Impala, but he says he won't see me because he doesn't want to drag me back in. And he doesn't know that you and Cas are still alive." Dean let it all out in a rush of excitement and emotion.

"Wait. What? Slow down for a minute. Are you sure it's from Sam? It would be easy enough for something to fake Sam's voice and..."

Dean interrupted, "He left the amulet, Bobby. My amulet. And on the tape, he said 'I let him out, I locked him back up again'. One of the last talks we had, before Sam said yes, he said that to me. That because he was the one who let Lucifer out, he had to be the one to put him back in. No one else knew that."

"Sam's been in hell for year, Dean. If we follow the timing based on your experience, that's 120 years. They've had more than enough time to get him to tell them everything. I'm just saying you have to be careful."

"Bobby, it's Sam! I know it is. I'll test him, I will, but it's him. And I have to find him. I have to convince him that this isn't the right choice. Staying apart isn't the right choice. Damn it, I can't lose him like this. I'm thrilled that he's out, you can't even begin to imagine how much, but this? How can he possibly think this is better? Please, Bobby. You have to help me. Please."

"Of course I'll help you, idjit. You boys, you're like sons to me. I've told you that. Now tell me what you know."

Dean filled Bobby in, playing the part of the tape with Sam's message over again as he drove back to the house.

A week later, he was no closer to finding Sam. Bobby had come to see them, much to Ben's delight. He thought Bobby was awesome, like a secret superhero. Dean saw a side of Bobby he'd forgotten existed. For so long, Bobby had been a hunter to him. Seeing him with Ben had reminded Dean of what it was like when he and Sam were kids and Bobby occasionally took care of them while Dad was on a hunt. Lisa made pie, which Bobby declared one of the best he'd ever eaten, making Lisa blush. Together, the two of them tried everything they could think of. They called other hunters, not revealing they were looking for Sam, but looking for signs. They tried aliases, old phone numbers (thinking Sam might have reactivated an old account), and checked out all the local motels and bars, since they knew Sam had been nearby for at least a little while. The closest they came was finding a couple of guys Sam played pool with. They remembered him because of the money he won off them. But that was it. Finally, Dean sat down with Lisa's laptop and logged on to his never used email account. Sam had set it up for him and made sure he knew how to use it, but Dean had never needed it. Until now. He put Sam's old email address in the 'TO:' line, filled in the subject line, and started typing.

* * *

Sam went to the library every day to use the computer. It was quiet and peaceful. The familiarity of being surrounded by books comforted him. He used one of the computers on the main floor, sitting alongside a dozen other library patrons. Once he used up his time, he'd work on research, trying to figure out more about what happened to him, and what might have set him free. Then he'd sign up for more computer time in the afternoon and use that up. One day, frustrated by his lack of progress researching, he grabbed a cart labeled 're-shelve' someone had left in the middle of an aisle and had gone to work. Mrs. Baranski, the head librarian, found him when he had only a few books left to put away.

"Oh. Hello. I've been looking for that cart. Did you put all those books away?" She adjusted her wire rimmed glasses on her nose.

"Yes m'am. I needed a break from my research and I thought this would be a good way to clear my mind. I hope it's not a problem." Sam pushed his hair out of his face and tried to look sheepish.

"Well, it's only a problem if you put them away wrong. Show me what you did."

Once Sam had proven he knew how to properly replace the books, he and Mrs. Baranski started talking. He reminded her of her grandson, she told him. When he mentioned research again, she assumed he was talking about graduate school work. He let her believe that, knowing the truth was too difficult to explain. The day after she caught Sam shelving books, she found him in the stacks after his morning computer time.

"Would you like a little more computer time, Sam? I know that it must be hard with limited access to the computer. And we're a small branch. We can't have all the books you need for your research. Keep in mind we can order copies of any book you need with inter-library loan, but that takes some time. I still say nothing beats books, but the internet can be useful."

"More computer time would be great, Mrs. Baranski, but it isn't fair to the other patrons if I take up all the time on one of the computers. I'm saving up get my own. I should have enough money soon." _A few more nights of playing pool_, he thought. _The computer is going to cost more than I paid for the car. Wouldn't Dean just love that? I can hear him now, calling me geek boy_.

"Well, if you promise not to tell anyone, I'll let you in on a little secret." She waited for him to nod, then continued, "We have a research and cataloging room on the second floor that no one really knows about. With all the cutbacks and this economic crunch, that room never gets used. What few new volumes we get we just catalog right on the main floor. But the room has a computer with internet access. It's quiet, and private. You could leave some volumes in there overnight, as long as you promised to shelve them when you were finished with them. Maybe in exchange, you could re-shelve some of the books here before you leave every night? Help us catch up? Or move a few boxes around for us?"

So for the past few days, Sam had followed the same routine. Show up, shelve a cart of books, head upstairs and get to work. At lunch time, he came downstairs and ate a sandwich with Mrs. Baranski, shelved another cart of books or anything else the elderly librarian asked for help with, and went back up to research until just before closing. He would help Mrs. Baranski finish up for the night, and leave for the hotel, or the bar, depending on his mood. During all the research he checked his email frequently. He was torn, wanting to hear from Dean, and not wanting to hear from him. But not hearing from him made Sam wonder if there was something wrong. _Is he angry with me? Or did he just not hear the tape? Maybe he doesn't believe it was really me._ At first, with the unlimited computer access, he checked his email obsessively. After a day or two, he was driving himself crazy. _Stop it, Sam. You told him it was better this way. That he should contact you if he needed you. He's doing what you always wanted. He's respecting your wishes_, he told himself. _Yeah, sucks that he picked now to do it though_, he thought. He finally decided to just log on to the email in the morning and leave the program running, refusing to check it. Every night as he logged out, he looked at the empty screen and wondered when it would stop hurting.

Then one day, a week after he had left Dean the tape in the Impala, the computer chirped at him. At first, Sam didn't recognize the importance of the sound. He was deep in the translation of an older volume, trying to understand an obscure legend that might hold some answers for him. He pushed the keyboard off to the side of the table, thinking he must have just bumped it with an elbow or something. But then he remembered. The computer chimed when he got an email.

He scrambled for the mouse and watched as the screen saver disappeared. Clicking on the tab for his email at the bottom of the screen, he held his breath as his inbox came up. Waiting there was a message for him. From Dean. Sam recognized the email address, because he had given it to Dean one day and forced him to remember it. Just in case, he'd said. _In case of what?_ Dean had asked. _Just in case._ Dean had given Sam a look, but stopped arguing at that point.

Sam smiled at the subject line: 'Seriously? What the hell were you thinking, Sam?' So like Dean. It was so like Dean to lead with his anger. He clicked on the link and started to read his brother's email.

_Sam,  
_

_We've been looking for a week now. Since you left that tape in the car. A solid week of trying to chase you down, figure out where you've been hiding yourself. I found the guys that you hustled playing pool – nice work there, by the way – but we haven't been able to find you. No phones to track, and you aren't using any of the old aliases I'd expect you to use. Smart ass. Can't make anything easy, can you? Sam – you're killing me here, you know that, right? A year. You've been gone a year and all you do is leave me a tape. Get your ass back here now. Knock on the door. Hold still while I do the tests. Remember to breath through the bone-crushing hug I'll give you. You are my _brother,_ Sam. You are my family. We will figure out how you got out of the Pit together. We'll figure out what it means. I already talked to Lisa, and to Ben. She's cool with the idea of you staying here for a while. Ben thinks it's great – he's thinking you'll be able to play all these video games with him. The kid needs some competition. Believe it or not, I kinda suck at them. Guess I just don't see the point. Although, I'll admit, Rock Band is pretty cool. I'm serious about you staying here, Sam. Lisa knows that it could be dangerous. I told her that you're worried there might still be something after you. But she knows that I need you back. This whole year I've needed you back, but I didn't think it would happen, so I learned to just keep moving forward, even though – I'll say it, because you need to know – even though it felt like a huge chunk had been torn out of me. You can't do this, Sam! Dammit! Knowing that you're alive and out there, but that you won't come home? You won't see me? How do you think that makes me feel? I know I failed you. I should have gone with you. You'll never know how sorry I am that you had to be the one. How much it hurt. Please. I need my brother._

_Listen, after you – I don't even know what to call it – fell, jumped, sacrificed yourself? – at the cemetery, Cas came back. Something brought him back, with all his angel mojo intact. He healed me and he healed Bobby. Are you understanding this, Sam? Bobby and Cas are both alive. What Lucifer did to them, well it didn't matter in the end, because they're both okay now. Well, I assume that Cas is okay, since he's an angel and all. I haven't seen much of him since that day. I haven't seen a whole lot of Bobby either, but after I listened to your tape I called him. He wants to see you too. I think the thought of you in the Pit has been bothering him more than he'd ever say. I know it's been eating me up inside._

_God, our family is so messed up, isn't it? But we are a family. And family needs to be together. I mean – if there is something after you – you need me to watch your back. If something got you now, after all this, I'd never forgive myself. How would I even know what happened? Dammit, dammit, dammit, Sam! I want to smack you and hug you all at the same time. This is so frustrating. You know how hard it is for me to talk about this stuff in the first place, and like this – in an email? It sucks. You hear me? This sucks, Sam! I want to just order you to come back, but I can't do that. Not anymore. You might be my baby brother, but you aren't a baby. You've proven that, over and over again._

_You said you couldn't forgive yourself. Here's my question. What do you have to forgive yourself for, Sam? You put the monster back in the cage. You saved the world. Only a few people will ever know, but it doesn't matter. It still makes you a little bit of a hero. Did you make some mistakes along the way? Yeah, but we all did. I don't have enough fingers and toes to count the number of times I screwed up, especially with you. You don't know how many times I've replayed everything this last year, wishing I said something different, or did something different. There's so many things I'd take back. We could start with the time I told you that if I didn't know you, I would have hunted you. Or the times I ignored how much you were hurting, because I was hurting too. And a thousand other things. We both made mistakes, and bad things took advantage of that._

_So I'm back to this. Home, Sam. Please come home. I'm not saying we'll go back to hunting. I kind of like what I have going now. I'll support whatever choice you want for your life. (Well, within reason.) Being apart like this, though? This is a mistake. Because regardless of what we do, we're family. You need to be here and be part of it. Please._

_Dean_

_ps – at the very least, call me. Or call Bobby._

Sam swiped at the tears on his cheeks. Bobby and Cas were alive. But more even than this good news, the joy of hearing from Dean overwhelmed him. This message, this was Dean. He was different. Their time apart had changed him, that was obvious in the email, but this was his brother. _He's right_, Sam thought. _Maybe he's right, and I should go back_. He rubbed his face with his hand, trying to decide what he should do. Before he came to a decision, the computer chimed again. Sam looked up, erased the screen saver, and checked his inbox. There was a second message from Dean. The subject line of this one read 'I changed my mind'. Brow furrowed, he clicked on the message.

_Sammy,_

_ I changed my mind. Get back here now. That _is _an order. Privileges of being the oldest. I don't care how old you get, I still get to boss you around. Bitch_.

Sam laughed. He clicked the reply button without really thinking about it and typed.

_I'll be there tomorrow morning. Not because of your orders though. Because your first email convinced me. Jerk._

That night, he told Mrs. Baranski that he was leaving in the morning to see his brother. She smiled, and told him thank you for his help. He went back to the motel and slept. In the morning, he rose early, got in the car, and headed for Dean. For home.


	3. I'm Coming Home

_Thank you to everyone for the reviews of my previous chapters. You've all been wonderful. This is the final chapter of this particular story, although another idea of what happens after this is percolating in my brain. We'll see what happens. I hope you enjoy it!_

**Disclaimer: Only the idea is mine. Supernatural and the characters therein belong to the writers, directors, producers, and actors that bring it to life. **

**Rated T, just in case.**

Sitting at the small desk in the living room, Dean stared at the computer screen. Sam had answered his message. For once in his life, he was happy his baby brother was a nagging computer-loving geek.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou." Scrubbing his face with his hands, Dean considered calling out to Bobby, who was in the kitchen, having been invited to stay a little longer. But he didn't, deciding instead to read the message alone first. If it was bad news, he wanted to handle his reaction to it before Bobby or Lisa saw it. He clicked, and the message opened.

_I'll be there tomorrow morning. Not because of your orders though. Because your first email convinced me. Jerk._

Dean laughed, quick and hard, before he put his left hand across his mouth. Closing his eyes, he let the relief wash over him. Sam was coming home. Sam. Dead Sam. Gone Sam. His brother Sam. He choked on the sudden sob and quickly covered his left hand with his right. Eyes still closed, he bowed his head and said a silent thank you to the universe. He remained that way and tried to let it just wash over him. The muscle tremors started deep in his chest, and he could feel them, though no one looking at him would see. Almost like shivering from cold, he felt the trembling radiate through his body, a purely physical reaction to his emotions. Finally, it was over. Dean stayed at the desk, not ready to share yet. Selfishly, part of him wanted to hold the good news inside, like maybe he could protect Sam this way. _Stupid. He's been through the worst._ _What are you going to protect him from at this point? _He asked himself. _Doesn't matter_, he answered silently. _I just want to keep him safe. I always did. But it didn't work out that way._

"Bobby! Lisa!" Dean yelled suddenly, distracting himself before his thoughts could grow more maudlin.

They both came in immediately from the kitchen. Lisa came to stand beside him, glancing at the computer screen over his shoulder. Bobby stood tensely in the doorway.

"He answered the email I sent." Dean took hold of Lisa's hand, but looked at Bobby.

When Dean said nothing more, Bobby, exasperated, said, "And? What did he say?"

Dean smiled a bit. Bobby looked surprised, and Lisa gasped.

"He's coming?" Lisa asked.

The smile grew. Laughing and crying, Lisa touched Dean on the cheek. "I'm so happy for you!" She hugged him, and looked back at Bobby. Dean looked over too, and was startled to see tears on the older hunter's cheeks. Dean said, "Hey, Bobby," and started to get up. The other man looked at Dean and shook his head a bit, smiling wistfully.

"I just never thought we'd get him back. Not this time. I didn't think there was a chance in..." Bobby stopped talking as his face crumpled. Jumping up, Dean crossed the room and grabbed Bobby in a hug.

He murmured, "I know, Bobby. I didn't think we'd get him back either. I know."

After a moment, Bobby pulled away. "You know we still need to test him. We need to make sure. I want it to be him more than anything, and I know you do too, son. But we need to be certain."

Dean nodded, and responded, "Let's get everything together. He said he'd be here in the morning."

They spent the rest of the night gathering salt and holy water, and chalking out devil's trap and sigils. Lisa looked a little pained at the writing on the floors and walls, but when Dean assured her he'd clean it, she just smiled and responded, "You bet you will. But I'll help."

* * *

Everyone rose early the next morning, anxious. The night before, Lisa arranged for Ben to stay at a friend's house for the day. After breakfast, she drove him there. When she came back, Dean walked out of the house before she could close the car door.

"Lisa, you can't be here." He took the front steps two at a time and crossed the lawn to the driveway.

"What? But I want to be here for you. Don't shut me out."

Dean silenced her by taking her in his arms. Pressing his cheek against the top of her head, he spoke.

"It isn't safe. If this isn't Sam, you'll be in danger. It's the same reason you sent Ben away this morning. I need to be focused on making sure this is Sam. I can't worry about keeping you safe at the same time. Once I know, I'll call you. I'm not trying to shut you out. I'm trying to protect you. Please. No arguments on this one, okay?" He let his palm rest along her neck and stroked her jawline with his thumb.

Pursing her lips, she gazed back at him. Finally, she nodded and leaned into him as he kissed her.

"I'll go run errands or something. Promise you'll call as soon as you know?" She put both hands on his chest.

"Promise."

Her right hand curled into a loose fist and she tapped it over his heart.

"Be careful, Dean."

He nodded, and held the door as she climbed back into the car, then closed it gently. She put the car in reverse and rolled out of the driveway. He held up a hand when she waved, then went back inside the house, resuming his place in the chair by the front window. Bobby sat beside him in another chair. Neither spoke as the morning slowly ticked away.

* * *

Nervous energy had Sam's left leg bouncing up and down in the car for most of the drive. As he got closer to Cicero, the tempo increased, along with the edge of panic in his thoughts. He was almost there. The drive was about three hours, and Sam had been thinking furiously the entire time, wondering what he would say to Dean. How could he even look Dean in the eyes, considering one of the last times Dean had seen Sam's face it had been taunting him and smiling while his fists were beating the crap out of him? True, it was Lucifer who had beaten Dean, but Sam had been there. Sam had seen it, hadn't been able to stop it fast enough. _This is a mistake. I should turn the car around, send him another email saying I can't see him yet_. Sam's smile was bittersweet. _I can just hear the 'son of a bitch' when he sees that email_. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, thinking of all the times he'd watched Dean do exactly the same. The exit for Cicero was a mile away. Sam eased the car into proper lane and tried to stop his leg from bouncing. _If I don't distract myself, I'm not going to be able to do this. He's got to hate me. Lisa will hate me for putting them in danger. Dean will hate me for getting him back into this mess. I was right when I thought I should stay away_. A nasty voice in his head answered, _You thought you were right when you went to kill Lilith too, and look how well that worked out for you._

"Great, just what I need. An angry internal dialogue to go along with all the rest of this." Sam muttered. He scoffed at himself, pulled over to the side of the road, and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. The exit was a few hundred feet away. Lifting his head, he stared at it for a minute or two, still debating. One voice yelled, _Dean, want to see Dean! _Sam recognized it as his baby brother voice. The adult Sam voice was telling him to stop being selfish and drive away. _Fortunately_, he thought, _they're both my voices_. He shook his head a bit. _I might be crazy, but at least I'm not possessed_.

"Okay." He spoke out loud again, addressing the air. "I know I have no right to ask, but I could use a sign. Nothing dramatic. Just a small little message that will help me decide if I should drive to Dean, or turn around." He waited. "Someone?" When nothing happened, he sighed.

"I am going crazy." Thinking about the tape he left for Dean, he reached over and flipped the radio on. The dj's voice rang out, "Your classic rock station!" A guitar started up, and after a few chords, Sam grinned. Years of riding shotgun in the Impala ensured he knew the song. His eyes flickered to the sky, and he said, "Thanks." Dean would have loved this sign. He carefully pulled back into traffic, singing along with Ozzy. Together they belted out the lyrics to 'Mama, I'm coming home' as Sam took the exit for Cicero.

A few minutes later, he was on Lisa's street. He slowed down, then parked in front of the house. Briefly, he closed his eyes, hands resting on the steering wheel. Then he took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he opened the car door and got out. He turned toward the house, unaware his face had melted into his puppy dog look. There was movement by the window, and the front door opened.

* * *

Every time a car drove by the house, Dean tensed. Luckily, Lisa lived on a fairly quiet street, so it wasn't too much of a problem. She called once. "Anything?" She asked. "Not yet," he'd answered. They said goodbye and Dean went back to waiting. Bobby didn't try to talk to him. Dean could feel the muscles in his body clenching tighter and tighter as morning inched toward afternoon. _Where is he? Tell me he didn't change his mind. He can't. Come on, Sam. Hurry up!_ Unconsciously, he squeezed his knee until his knuckles were white.

"Dean, it's not quite ten o'clock yet. There's still plenty of time." Bobby spoke softly, the way you talked to a skittish animal.

"I know, I know. I just want this over with. The tests. I want to know if it's really him. And if it isn't, I want to end it fast." Dean's eyes were cold. He hadn't hunted in over a year, but that didn't change the fact he would destroy this thing if it was only pretending to be Sam.

Bobby just nodded. They returned to quiet. Minutes passed and Dean kept squeezing his leg, knowing he was leaving bruises, but not caring. The small clock in the hall chimed ten times. Dean started counting his heartbeats to distract himself. When he reached about 120, a crappy little car, painted two different colors, slowed in front of the house and parked at the curb. The figure inside paused for a moment, then climbed out. Dean's first thought was _how the hell did Sam fold himself into that tiny thing?_ Then he saw the look. The one that almost always got baby brother what he wanted, not that Sam knew it was the reason.

He said to Bobby, "It's Sam," and then he was at the front door, not even conscious of his movement. He surged through the door, rushing toward Sam, ignoring Bobby's voice yelling his name behind him. Sam had come up onto the sidewalk, but moved no farther. When Dean was a few feet away, Sam held up his hands, motioning for Dean to stop.

"Hey, big brother." His voice cracked, and he tried to smile while furrowing his brow. _Another patented Sam look_, Dean thought, feeling his heart stutter.

Dean stood on the balls of his feet and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He knew he shouldn't, it was dangerous to have his hands tucked away, but he knew if he didn't that he would reach out and grab Sam. Because it was Sam. It had to be.

"You look good, Dean." Sam, too, had shoved his hands into his pockets. He was rocking back and forth, shifting his weight from the balls of his feet to the heels.

"I missed you. So much, Dean. I'm so sorry." Sam gulped quickly, fighting not to cry. "What do you need me to do?"

Dean just looked at him.

"The tests. What tests do you need to do?"

Dean nodded, quick, tense. "Follow me," he said. Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he walked back toward the house, never taking his eyes off the younger man.

A line of salt lay across the threshold. Dean stepped over it, then walked out of the devil's trap on the floor in front of the door. Bobby stood inside, tucked in a corner, holding a bottle of holy water in one hand and a pistol in the other. His eyes widened as Sam's frame filled the doorway. Reflexively, he clutched the holy water. Sam didn't notice him, having eyes only for his brother.

"Should I come inside?" He asked Dean.

"What do you think?" Dean answered, raising an eyebrow.

Sam half smiled. "I have no idea what to think anymore. But I'm guessing you want me to come in without an invitation, just in case." He stepped over the threshold and the salt, and took a few steps inside. The devil's trap was behind him. He looked down at it and said, "Lisa must be pretty pissed about what you did to the floor."

"I promised her I'd clean it up." Dean just stared at him.

Sam nodded, but didn't move, just waiting. He wanted to know what Dean was thinking, but couldn't bring himself to ask.

Finally, Dean broke the moment by pointing to the small table next to Sam.

"Drink the holy water."

Sam grasped the flask, and lifted it to his lips, chugging down about half of the water. He looked at Dean and asked, "Silver and iron next?"

Dean nodded and Sam held out his arm, palm up. Swiftly, Dean nicked him with first a silver blade, then an iron one. When nothing happened, he pointed to the cloth on the table. Sam picked it up and wrapped his hand.

"Say the exorcism rite in Latin," Dean ordered.

"Exercizo te, imundissime spiritus, ominis incursio adversarii..." He continued until he finished with an 'Amen', looking at Dean the entire time. His brother stared back at him.

"What were the last words you said to me?"

Sam closed his eyes as memories of Dean that day washed through him. Dean, helpless and sprawled on the ground. He had been swollen and bloody, broken, inside and out. Sam was horrified, knowing his fists had done it. Lucifer was clawing at the inside of his mind, frantically surging through his body, desperate to regain control of his vessel. But all Sam had to do was look at Dean's face and know that he couldn't let Lucifer come back. He couldn't let Dean suffer any more. When he had turned and opened up the gate with the rings, he wasn't thinking of saving the world. His only thoughts had been of saving Dean.

Realizing Dean was still waiting for an answer, he croaked, "I told you it was gonna be okay. I said, 'I've got him.'" He looked sadly at his brother. "I couldn't let him hurt you anymore. Not after... everything." When his brother still didn't answer, confusion crossed Sam's face.

"Wait, did you mean what I said to you at the cemetery, or the last thing I said on the tape? The last thing on the tape was that I left you something. I wasn't sure if you wanted it back." He glanced down at Dean's chest, but saw nothing. Sam swallowed hard and closed his eyes against the pain.

"I guess you didn't." Involuntarily, he took a step back, away from Dean.

"Sam," Dean said softly. He waited until the younger man opened his eyes, then reached up to his neck and tugged the amulet from beneath his shirt. Sam's eyes locked on the amulet as tears slid down his cheeks.

Dean said, "Sammy." Sam's short bark of laughter cut through his tears.

"It's been so long since you called me that."

And then Dean had him, his arms wrapped tightly around his brother, practically crushing him with the strength of the embrace. Sam sobbed a few times, breath catching in his throat, and Dean was crying too, tears flowing openly.

When they finally pulled away from the hug, Sam asked, "What made you so sure it was me?"

"Only you could be so literal minded about the last words you spoke to me. Cemetery or tape? C'mon, Sam, seriously? Which did you think I meant?" They were still standing close together, so Dean reached up and cupped Sam's head in his palm, shaking it a little.

Sam smiled a little and shook his head. "I dunno. Which did you mean?"

Before Dean could answer, Bobby cleared his throat. Sam turned his head and seemed to see the older hunter for the first time.

"Bobby." He breathed out the name softly. "Bobby, I'm so sorry. I tried to stop him, but it was so quick. I'm so sorry."

Bobby shook his head slightly. "Oh, my boy. I am getting too damn old for this. Come here." He motioned for Sam to step closer, and then Sam was enveloped in a second hug.

Bobby pulled Sam's head down to whisper in his ear, "We are so proud of you. And so glad you're back." He pushed Sam back so they were standing at arm's length, but didn't let go, holding Sam by the shoulders.

"I'm sorry I shot you."

Sam's smile was sad, and a little bitter. "You didn't shoot me, Bobby. You shot him. And I deserved much worse." He looked over his shoulder to Dean.

"I'm so sorry."

"Stop apologizing. It's like I told you in the email, Sam. You fixed it. You made things right, no matter what the cost was. The cost to both of us. There's no more reason to feel guilty. I'm just happy to have you back. I didn't think this one was a round trip flight."

"Neither did I."

"Yeah. Well. I'm glad we were both wrong. It's so good to have you home, Sam."

"Home," Sam murmured. This time the smile was a little more like the old him.

They looked at each other for a moment, thinking how things between them still needed to be mended. Too much had happened for everything to be perfect right away. But they were together, which was most important. Together, they could fix it. Then Dean glanced at the devil's trap on the floor. A huge grin crossed his face. He pointed at the trap.

Sam looked down, then back up at Dean. "What?" he asked, confused.

"You're helping me clean it up," Dean answered. And there it was. The smile Dean had been waiting for. His baby brother was home.


End file.
